


No Refunds or Exchanges

by Llama



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:52:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Llama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunday lunch, Doctor and Clara style. Or is it breakfast?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Refunds or Exchanges

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/gifts).



> Hi navaan, one of your requests was for Eleven and Clara non-shippy fic. You said you didn't mind some UST, so I hope the flirtiness works for you.

“So,” the Doctor said, swooping around Clara and the TARDIS console with some new gadget or other in his hand. He waved it around in the air and a screen popped into sight from apparently nowhere. That was new too. 

Oh. He was _showing off_.

Bless him.

“Where was I?” His face did this complicated scrunching thing that she kind of liked. She was never going to tell him that, however. It was only cute if he didn't know. “Oh yes, today I thought we could--”

“It won't work, you know,” Clara said. She folded her arms because it made her look like she meant business. She'd practiced looking stern and schoolteacherly in the mirror for hours, so she knew it worked. It also made her look taller, which was a bit weird now that she thought about it. 

“--go to this--” he ground to a halt, like someone had just yanked his plug out. “What? What won't work?”

“Trying to impress me.” 

“Pfft,” he spluttered, but he poked a finger at the buttons on his little gadget, apparently at random, and wouldn't look her in the eye. Yeah, she had his number. “Impress you, me? What are you... no.”

“Yeah, you are.” She patted the TARDIS console. “You shouldn't let him use you that way,” she stage-whispered to a nearby socket, and the pop-up screen promptly disappeared. Sometimes she really loved the TARDIS.

The Doctor huffed at that, but he didn't try to stop her taking the gadget off him. Huh, it wasn't as heavy as it looked. Could have been made of cheap plastic even. There were flashing lights in two-- no, three colours. “This doesn't do anything, does it?” she said. “Nothing that's actually useful needs three different colours of flashing lights.”

“Of course it does something!” The Doctor snatched it back and petted it like she might have hurt its delicate little feelings. “I just...” He waved it around again, and nothing happened. “... don't know what it is. Yet.”

Clara pursed her lips, but she didn't say anything. 

“You got here quickly,” the Doctor said, after a moment of silence. There was a hint of resentment there, as if it was her fault she'd arrived before he'd worked out how to operate his new toy. “I suppose you think I should have been more impressed by that.”

“Yes, actually.” It had taken her four buses, two trains and massively over-tipping a taxi driver to get her to the middle of nowhere by 3pm on a Sunday. She wished he'd get over this compulsion for cryptic messages and out of the way parking. “Half of the Southern line is out today, you have no idea how numb my bum is from all those ancient buses and coaches.”

Someone who'd been around as long as the Doctor really shouldn't go pink at the word 'bum', she thought. 

“I came all the way from Valulon Six,” he muttered, jabbing the gadget ineffectually at the console. And oh, that explained so much.

“I told you not to go to that market again,” she said. “It's cheap for a _reason_.”

“But they're so friendly!” 

“Only when they see a sucker coming.” She said it gently though, nudged him with her elbow. That got her a faint twitch of a smile. 

“And the food,” the Doctor said, with a faintly dreamy expression. “It was worth the trip just for the breakfast. You wouldn't think spongey purple vegetables could taste like bacon and eggs, but you'd be-- what? Now what?” Because she'd grabbed his arm and was turning him around, or trying to.

“You,” Clara said. “Shut up and drive. Steer. Whatever! Back to Valu-whatsit.”

“I don't think they give refunds,” the Doctor said, clutching the gadget protectively to his chest.

“Sod your flashy light thing,” Clara said, nudging him towards the controls. “I haven't had any breakfast.”

 

“You're very bossy when you're hungry,” the Doctor complained. The market was even busier now, all manner of sizes and shapes of species crammed into a large, noisy hall. It was a relief to emerge into the quieter cafeteria area, even though the smells made Clara's stomach rumble.

“I'm bossy all the time,” Clara said. “I'm just less polite about it when I haven't been fed. Now, where's this purple spongey stuff?”

It was on Clara's plate approximately thirty seconds later, and no longer on Clara's plate about two minutes after that. The spiky creature serving it up grinned at her (at least she hoped it was a grin) when she went back for seconds. 

“I never knew you could eat so much.” The Doctor picked at a sandwich-like thing made from rubbery bread that puffed in and out as if it was breathing. Clara was going to steer well clear of that. “Maybe I should trade you in for a smaller one.”

“Bit risky.” She pointed up at the signs plastered everywhere. “No refunds _or exchanges_. You might end up with someone even bigger on the inside.”

“Or one who doesn't think she's a comedian.” 

“Come on. I missed breakfast _and_ lunch. And you mentioned bacon and eggs!” Clara squinted at him. “You didn't really think I'd be able to resist? I'm only human.” 

“I think you'll find that's not a _human_ thing, just a British one,” he said loftily, then his eyes went wide. “Oh, it's like fish and chips!”

“Exactly.” Clara smiled across the table at him. The Doctor's face did the crinkly smiling thing that was even better than the complicated scrunchy thing, and then, as always happened, she could feel her smile grow even wider. “This is fun,” she said, before things got weird. “Having breakfast together. Well, lunch.” She didn't know what the locals would call it, but it felt like lunchtime to her stomach, even if it tasted like bacon and eggs, so she was sticking with that.

“It is, isn't it?” the Doctor said. “We should go out for lunch more. Or dinner. There was this place in Cardiff--” He twitched a little. “No, perhaps not there.”

“Or breakfast,” she said, watching his face. He blinked and there was that tinge of pink once more. Huh. 

“We could do that,” he said, darting glances at her as he fidgeted with the silly plastic gadget again. “I'd like that.” He twirled the gadget in his fingers, almost dropped it, and his fingers pressed down on a button just underneath the flashing lights. 

Up above them, lights in the ceiling began to flash as well, and a siren started to wail. From the far end of the market another siren started up, and a huge screen Clara hadn't even noticed started to glow brightly with different colours and patterns.

They both stared at the gadget. The lights were definitely flashing in a different pattern now, the same pattern as the screen. And the lights above. And faster, they were definitely going faster, all the lights were speeding up, as if they were building up to something. Around them, their fellow shoppers were shouting now, and trying to fight their way out of the hall.

“That can't be good,” the Doctor said, and they pushed back their chairs in unison. He still looked a little sad when Clara paused to drop his gadget into his mug of muddy greenish coffee. 

“I'll buy you another one tomorrow,” Clara promised, grabbing his hand and getting ready to run. They were bound to have something in the Chiswick pound shop that would flash lights as it him if that was what he really wanted. It'd certainly be a lot safer. She raised her voice above the ever-increasing noise. “And you can buy me breakfast after!”

“Deal!” he shouted, and they launched themselves, laughing, into the crowd.


End file.
